Reality Questioned
by M Chettle
Summary: A Romulan wants some information and he's going to get it from Bashir by any means necessary.
1. Chapter One

REALITY QUESTIONED by Marie Chettle

Chapter One

His life before the pain was just a blurred memory. A dream. A fantasy. A haven. A place to escape to from his present grisly reality. Had such a place of pain-free existence really existed?. He liked to think so. It was the only thing that kept him sane, that thought. The thought of a place where he was able to relieve other peoples' pain and suffering when he could not relieve his own. He knew what would, but he wouldn't give it to them. If his dream was a reality then he didn't want this one intruding onto it. He screwed his eyes shut. Dear God, let this be a dream and the other one be real. But when he opened them again he was still in the same darken cavern.

The cavern was his reality now. It's dark, mould covered walls his world. The trickle of water, as it ran down the wall, the only sound in it. Except for the footsteps and what they brought. One set brought relief and pleasure. The other pain and terror. 

As he sat there on the floor, he heard the soft thud of footsteps outside the cave entrance. He tried to shrink back further into the darkness, but he was already up against the wall.

The footsteps stopped, and a shadowy figure appeared in front of the cavern force-field. Reaching across the figure turned off the force-field, plunging the room into further darkness. The footsteps started again as the figure made it's way across the room. They stopped beside him and the figure squatted down. "Julian?" said a female voice. Pleasure. 

He turned to look at her, but couldn't make out much in the darkness. A young pretty face, blonde hair cut just above the shoulder. "Melissa?" he croaked.

"It's alright. I brought you some water." She poured some into a cup, fumbling in the darkness, and handed it to him.

His hands were stiff and weak from the lack of food and water, and from his injures, so he found it hard to clasp the cup and nearly dropped it. Melissa managed to grab it before he did and helped him steady it so he could drink. The water felt good, cool and refreshing, and he remembered enough so that he only sipped it, even after so long, but the cup was small, and it wasn't long before it was empty. Melissa took it back and had begun to refill it when there was a flicker as the light was turned on, blinding them both with it's brightness.

Julian cringed, afraid of the light, afraid of what it brought. The other footsteps. Terror.

Terror came towards them, As he reached Melissa he lashed out knocking the cup and water-pot out of her hands, darkening the cavern floor with their contents. Julian watched as the floor sucked up the water as thirstily as he felt.

Terror then grabbed Melissa and hauled her to her feet. "I didn't say you could give him any water."

"He needs it, Tarik. If he doesn't get any then he won't be able to answer your question."

"The less water he gets the more likely he is to answer."

"Not if he's dead. He wouldn't be able to answer your question then."

Tarik pushed Melissa away with disgust as he realised what she was saying was true. He turned back to his captive. "How much did you give him?"

"Just a cupful."

"Good, that'll be enough." Enough to keep him alive, but not enough to quench his thirst. He turned to Melissa. "Are you going to stay?", he asked. "Maybe you would like to watch this time?"

She stared at him in disgust. What had started out as a means to an end was now a thrill to him. The systematic torture and abuse of his prisoner was all he cared about. He received some perverse pleasure from watching Julian suffer. So much so that at times he forgot to ask his question.

One question. That's all Julian had to answer, but he didn't, wouldn't, couldn't?. It had been over two weeks now, sixteen days actually, Melissa had been counting, and he still hadn't broken. She would have, the very first day. There was no way she could have held out this long. She marvelled again at his strength. He must care a lot for the others, for the station.

She looked at him, at what Tarik had done to him, at what she had done to him. Because it was as much her fault as it was his. She was the one who had brought him here. Lured him away from the station. Taken him from his haven and brought him to this hell.

She wondering again how she could have done it, but she knew how, and it sickened her that she could be so easily brought. She should have realised this would happen. Why else would a Romulan want a Starfleet officer except to get information, and now Tarik wanted her to stay and watch him get that information, and that sickened her even more.

She turned and walked out of the room, not bothering to give Tarik an answer. As soon as she was out of sight she lost the barely maintained grip she had on her feelings. As those feelings took hold she began to run, hoping to get away from what she had done, from what Tarik was going to do, but there would be no getting away from either of them, because no matter where she went she would still be able to here Julian scream, just like she could still hear Tarik laughing at her now.

Tarik laughed as he heard Melissa running down the corridor. Humans!, they were so squeamish. They didn't have a strong enough stomach to do what was necessary. Never mind he did, and once he got what he wanted then the Empire would welcome him back with open arms. When it did he would make Sorak and the others sorry for what they did to him, very sorry, but first things first. He looked down at Julian. "Get up."

Slowly, on unsteady legs, Julian rose. He put up no resistance. What was the point?. It only put off the inevitable. He had learned that long ago when he had first arrived. He had fought back then, had tried to stop Tarik, but the Romulan had always won in the end, and he had just weakened himself further for what was to come. So in the end he had stopped trying.

He felt his leg muscles protest as he straightened them. They still hadn't fully recovered from Tarik's last visit. His hand shot out and grabbed the wall as he felt one of them give. Somehow he managed to stop himself from falling back onto the floor.

Tarik, seeing that Julian was up, said, "Over here," and moved further into the cavern.

Using the wall for support Julian inched his way after him, too weak and afraid to hurry encase his legs gave out.

Tarik stopped and looked back at him. He sighed. At this rate they would be here all day. He headed back over to Julian, grabbed him under the arm and began to guide him along. Julian's legs nearly buckled at the increase in speed, and he had to lean on Tarik to keep himself up right. Tarik pushed him away, disgusted that this human would dare to touch him.

Julian nearly collapsed again as he was pulled the last few metres. "Stay there," said Tarik releasing him, and he had to use all of his will power to comply.

Removing a control device from a pocket, Tarik pointed it upwards and pressed one of the buttons. Slowly something began to descend. A set of manacles.

Julian watched as they descended lower and lower, gathering his strength for what was to come next. Eventually when they were level with him the manacles stopped moving.

Tarik stepped forward and, one by one, snapped them around Julian's wrists. Then activating the device again watched as they began to rise until Julian's feet no longer touched the floor.

There. A few hours like that might make him more compliant, or at least susceptible to what Tarik had planned or at least he hoped it would, but he doubted it. This wasn't the first time he had been hung like this and he hadn't broken then either.

Tarik stared at Julian. He had been so sure that he would be the easiest to break, the one to give him what he wanted, but the man was stronger than he looked. Tarik would have admired that in an opponent at any other time, but not now. Time wasn't on his side. Sooner or later the others would realise he was missing and come looking for him.

Maybe he should have chosen one of them instead, they might have been easier. Of course they wouldn't have so easily lured away from the station. All it had taken in Julian's case was a pretty face and a sad story. Tarik leered. Starfleet personnel were so predictable, especially this one. Always ready to help anyone in distress. Pity he wouldn't have time to learn from his mistake.

Tarik smiled again. It would give him great pleasure to finally get rid of him, this thorn in his side. To finally win the battle between them, for a battle it had become. He was battling Julian into giving him what he wanted, the information that would give him back his place in the Romulan Empire. While Julian was battling against him, trying not to give him it. But he was loosing, of that Tarik was sure, and when he did he would get the information he wanted.

Tarik smirked and gave Julian a push. The smirk grew as he saw Julian wince and close his eyes, but not cry out, at the added strain on his shoulders.

Oh, yes. A few more days and then the information will be mine. He left the cavern, pleased that things were finally going his way.

TBC


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter 2

O'Brien skidded, and almost fell, but just managed to hit the ball.

"Are you alright, Chief?" asked Bashir as he moved towards the ball.

O'Brien nodded. "I'm fine", he said a little breathlessly, before hurrying across the court to return Bashir's shot.

"Nice shot" said Bashir as he waited for the ball to rebound off the wall.

"Thanks."

There was a volley of shots until a point was finally scored. "Twelve, nine to me" stated Bashir as he prepared to serve.

"Yeah, yeah", grumbled O'Brien. "Just serve."

Bashir grinned and flexed his shoulders. They had started to ache during the last few shots, but he didn't know why. He wasn't doing anything he hadn't done before, and he couldn't remember injuring them. Maybe I just spent to long hunched over the consol, !he thought as he served. He watched as O'Brien moved in. As he waited for his turn he realised that he couldn't remember hunching over his consol at all let alone for a long time. So when did he hurt his shoulders?

There was a loud beep, and Bashir started as he realised he had missed his shot.

"What's the matter, Julian?" asked O'Brien concerned by the look on his friends face.

Bashir shook his head. "Nothing. The shot was a bit fast, that's all. Couldn't reach it in time."

O'Brien nodded, warily, not believing the younger man. "Twelve, ten."

The game began again. As he continued to play Bashir's mind kept straying to the fact that he couldn't remember sitting at a consol. So if he hadn't hurt his shoulders hunching over a consol then he must have hurt them some other way, but how? He thought back to what he had been doing before he had started playing racket ball. Bashir stopped dead. He couldn't remember doing anything before the game! Nothing!

There was another beep as Bashir missed his turn yet again. "Sorry, Chief. It's just that...... Can you remember what I was doing before we started playing this game?" He hoped O'Brien would be able to jog his memory.

O'Brien shrugged at the strange question. "Probably the same as usual. Working in the infirmary."

Bashir nodded. Probably. So why couldn't he remember? Maybe he was coming down with something. Something that was also affecting his shoulders. He flexed them again and winced as the pain increased.

They had gotten steadily worse as the game had progressed. Now they were aching constantly, like there was a continuous strain on them. But how could that be? He had been playing racket ball for years, and before that tennis, so his muscles were well use to the pressures being put on them by playing the game. "Chief, can we stop?" he said finally coming to a decision. "I want to get myself checked out at the infirmary. I think I'm coming down with something."

O'Brien peered closely at him. "You look alright to me."

"Yeah, well..... I'm having trouble remembering anything that happened before we started this game, and my shoulders are aching." He began to rub one of them.

"Are you sure? I mean this has nothing to do with the fact that for the first time in ages there's a strong possibility that I might beat you?"

"Chief?" said Bashir confused.

O'Brien came towards him. "You seemed perfectly alright before, when you were winning. But now it looks like I might, you're suddenly not feeling well."

Bashir was shocked at what his friend was implying. "That has nothing to do with it."

"Yeah?!"

"Yeah! Why would I need to cheat anyway?"

"Because you aren't winning. Because you always cheat."

"No, I don't!"

O'Brien's face began to cloud. "Are you calling me a liar now?"

Bashir stared at his friend confused. This was so unlike O'Brien. Why was he behaving like this? Could he also have whatever was affecting him? Possibly. There was only one way to find out. Bashir started towards the com-panel.

"And where do you think you're going?" asked O'Brien.

"I'm going to call the Infirmary. I think that whatever's affecting me is also affecting you."

"Oh! So now I'm sick too!"

Bashir turned to the Chief. "You must admit that you are acting a little strange, Chief."

O'Brien threw down his racket angrily. "I'll tell you what's strange." He began to move closer to Bashir. "The fact that I let you cheat all this time. That I let you get away with it."

There was something about that last statement that sent a cold shiver down Bashir's spine. He looked at O'Brien and could hardly recognise him through all the anger and hate that was showing on his face. Bashir began to back away as O'Brien came towards him. What the Hell was happening? Why was he acting like this? 

Bashir blinked and shook his head slightly. For a moment there he could have sworn that O'Brien had changed. That he had been replaced, by a taller, thinner man of about the same age, with dark, closely cropped hair, slanting eyebrows and pointy ears. But as he looked again all he could see was O'Brien.

"Chief?" he said as his back hit the wall. He raised his hands as though surrendering, but O'Brien ignored him.

"You think you're so clever, don't you? Graduating second from the Academy. Captain of the Starfleet Medical Racket Ball Team. Can't let an enlisted man beat you, now can you?" O'Brien stopped in front of him. "Well, I'll show you what I think of cheats and people who call me a liar." Raising his fist he punched Bashir in the face.

Bashir just stood there, lights exploding in his head, as he took it. He wasn't going to fight back. O'Brien was his friend and he was sick. Though if this continued for much longer, he thought, I will, friend or no friend. 

O'Brien hit him again and then again. After a few moments Bashir realised that he wasn't going to let up.

I'm sorry, Chief. I hope that once this is all over, and you're back to your old self, you'll understand. He began to gather himself. Preparing to use whatever means necessary to restrain O'Brien. As long as it didn't involve hurting him too much.

As O'Brien pulled back for another blow, Bashir realised this was his chance and started to lift his arm to strike back, or at least he tried to. For some reason it wouldn't move. It took Bashir a moment to work out why, a moment that O'Brien took full advantage of by hitting him again. The ache in his shoulders had gotten worse. In fact it had gotten so bad that it was now just one big lump of pain straight across them, matching the one now growing in his head. Whatever was causing the pain was also preventing the muscles from working, and so stopping him from fighting back. Not that it mattered much as O'Brien would soon stop when he lost consciousness.

Suddenly O'Brien did stop and stepped back, allowing Bashir to slowly sink to his knees.

He had decided not to try and talk to O'Brien it would probably only make matters worse. Not that he was sure that his mouth would work properly anyway.

O'Brien hit him again, and he began to feel the first touches of unconsciousness enter his mind. Gratefully he rushed towards it.

Julian slowly opened his eyes and looked up at one of the dark stone walls of the cavern.

"Ah! Glad you could join me," said Tarik sarcastically. He had been waiting a long time for Julian to wake up. "We have some work to do." He saw a brief flash of fear spread across his captive's face. Good. Maybe things were finally going his way after all. "You could always stop me from having to do this you know. Just give me what I want."

Julian's jaw set as he turned away from Tarik and stared at the wall again, a determined look on his face.

"Suit yourself," said Tarik reaching behind for something.

Julian's face lost some of it's determination as he tried, surreptitiously, to see what Tarik was doing. His eyes widened and the fear returned as he saw the device.

"Ah!" Tarik smiled. "I see that you remember this. It's been awhile since I last used it," he gazed fondly at it. "But I thought I'd give it another try. This little thing hasn't let me down yet." He pointed the device at Julian and pressed one of the buttons.

Julian lurched and his nerve endings jumped as the electrical pulse from the device hit him. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out.

Tarik watched, amused. So you're going to try and fight it. Well, lets see you fight this. He turned a dial on the device and the electrical pulse increased.

A muscle in Julian's jaw twitched as he fought to keep from screaming. He knew that was what Tarik wanted and he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction, but the pain was almost unbearable.

Tarik smirked. Nearly. He had nearly gotten him to scream. Somehow it just didn't seem right unless he did. So he turned the dial again, and Julian screamed as every nerve ending in his body burned.


End file.
